


See You Again

by SarcasticSmiler



Series: Song fics from the radio on the drive to work [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, I suppose, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7963246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarcasticSmiler/pseuds/SarcasticSmiler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic inspired by Charlie Puth's 'See You Again'</p>
            </blockquote>





	See You Again

**Author's Note:**

> This fic goes with the non-rap version of [See You Again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLbG1HmfBIk)

The stone was cold against his back, but Dwalin couldn’t find it in himself to care. He felt numb all over, a little chilled rock couldn’t hurt him now. In the great hall above him the dwarves of Erebor celebrated. Yet here he sat with his back pressed to cold carved stone, the torch he’d brought with him burned down to an ember.

Durin’s Day had come again.

It had been a year since the battle.

A year since he’d lost his King.

His friend.

His love.

“Why?” he croaked, voice hoarse from earlier cries, “Why’d ya have to leave so soon? Why’d ya hafta go? Why’d ya hafta leave us all when we needed ya the most? When _I_ needed ya?”

The stone kept its silence, the ghosts of the past did not linger.

“Why, Thorin, why?”

A single tear slid down his cheek, catching on his stubble.

His beard sheared short out of grief and shame.

“Dwalin?” golden light flickered into the tomb, followed closely by the concerned eyes of Balin, “Brother? The Company was wondering where you were, why not come join the revelry, at least for a little while?”

A sob lodged in his throat at the gentle hand Balin placed on his shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze.

“Come, though I know it hurts, the dead are in a much better place than you or I, leave them to their rest and join the living for a time.”

-x-

“Balin left t’day, gone to do what we failed at so many years ago,” Dwalin’s voice echoed slightly in the dark chamber, the light of his torch flicking over the face of his king, carved in the stone lid of his tomb. “You shoulda seen the dwarrow that went with ‘im, Thorin. We’ve come a long way from our days in the Blue Mountains, that’s fer sure. Hundreds, all kitted out in the best Erebor has to offer, it was a sight to see. Put our little company of thirteen to shame really.”

Reaching out, Dwalin ran his knuckles over a smooth, cool carved cheekbone.

“Oin went with him, little Ori too. I couldn’t go,” Dwalin’s head dropped in shame, voice coming out whisper soft, “I don’t seem to have the strength to carry on without you beside me.”

-x-

It was Gloin who brought him the news, the normally fiery dwarf strangely subdued, his eyes red rimmed.

“My little Gimli has sent a raven,” he stated, swallowing heavily he held out the weather worn parchment.

Dwalin’s hands shook as he read, learning of his brother’s fate.

“Have you told Dori and Nori?” he asked, voice steady as he kept a tight grip on his emotions.

“Not yet.”

“It might be best t’go find them then.”

Dwalin stayed rooted to the spot, watching until Gloin disappeared from sight before he stumbled his way to the tombs, collapsing in a heap before Thorin’s crypt, harsh sobs tearing from his throat.

-x-

The War of the Ring was over, Erebor had remained strong and unyielding in the face of great evil, though Dain had lost his life in the struggle.

Dwalin found himself, once again, atop Ravenhill, axes and armour covered in the blood of orcs, another King dead before he’d had a chance to protect him. His eyes turned to the Lonely Mountain, chest heaving as he caught his breath after the trials of battle.

“It has been a long day indeed without you, my King,” he murmured, the Durin blue of Thorin’s eyes flashing through his mind, “It seems I’ll have many a story to tell ya when I see ya again in Mahal’s Halls.”

-x-

He was tired, so very tired.

He had come to the end of the road, his journey was finally over.

With a shuddering sigh, Dwalin, son of Fundin, closed his eyes for the final time.

-x-

Light flickered against his closed lids, sounds of merriment reached his ears, and the scent of home filled his every breath.

“Dwalin.”

He knew that voice.

That dearly loved, long missed, voice.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Thorin,” opening his eyes, Dwalin blinked away tears at the sight before him.

His King, his friend, his love.

Thorin smiled, reaching out to cup Dwalin’s cheek, “Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first foray into Thorin/Dwalin and I feel kinda mean keeping Thorin dead for most of it, but this is what came to mind whenever I hear the song on the radio on my way to work.
> 
> I should probably point out that this has barely been proofread, so apologies for any mistakes.


End file.
